


The Empress of Ren

by MissAdlock



Series: The Lady of Ren [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Shit it’s finally here, will update more tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2019-10-27 01:01:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17756822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAdlock/pseuds/MissAdlock
Summary: ++ SEQUEL TO "THE LADY OF REN" ++With the Resistance scattered and Snoke dead, Kylo Ren is appointed Supreme Leader of the First Order. His next objective? To destroy the humbling Resistance once and for all.With a new title for yourself (Empress of Ren) comes new responsibilities. Your affinity for your home-world, Baleine, has caused an obsession to reign and eradicate their new government. The news that your mother has survived an execution and has been working with Admiral Holdo has shaken you to the core and you'll do anything to find her.But your ties to the Grey Side of the Force are fading quickly. Rage and hatred has consumed your bones. Will you pledge yourself to the Dark Side or stay with the Grey? And if you do, how will this affect Kylo?And your children?





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> TWO WEEKS AFTER "LADY OF REN"

_Two weeks later_

 

* * *

 

 

His spirit still lingered in the Force.

The blood of your children ran in his veins and in yours. Your souls were combined, and you knew one day he’d come back home.

You hadn’t lost hope.

But the days were getting longer and the nights were getting colder. You longed for his touch -- for his very breath. It was hard enough to be away from the children for this long, but to not be able to see _him_ …to feel _him_ …was…

Devastating.

So much so that sleeping proved impossible by his absence. You lay in your cot at night, in a small hut in the village of Hannai, where your eyes barely shut and reach out into the universe, only to come up empty handed. He wasn’t to be found.

Phasma hadn’t contacted you. Neither had the General. You were on Baleine alone with only the company of two battalions, the Knights, and what was left of the Bruler squad. And while these were not strangers – not in the literal sense – they felt like empty shells…just meat.

They were concerned for your well-being. The only time you lit up was when the maidens back home on Yanni called for you to see the children. Even in the past two weeks did it look like they’ve grown. You fret that maybe a milestone would happen – like their first words – that you would not see. War was bitch.

To make matters worse, Sabbai’s “ghost” still haunts you from time to time. Her connection with you through the Force is spectral. She could reach into the very synapses of your brain and cause a treacherous headache – one that rendered you unconscious. This happened more and more as the weeks went by, much to your dismay, and you couldn’t get an insight to where she might be hiding.

So far, the war had been…ominous. Shadowy figures hovered above the battles in the most literal sense of the word; the Resistance had regimented two warships once or twice. The Raddus had been blown to smithereens, of course, but your intelligence neglected to inform you of their secret weapons known as “The Widow” and “The Widower”, which seemed like too portentous a name for Resistance ships – they meant serious business.

But so did you. You had one battalion in the air and one on the ground. Your artillery was nearly limitless and the Knights and Bruler squad made things easier. The Resistance was steadfast in their damage, however, and you’d lost three AT-AT’s last week after a bomb squad destroyed a quarter of your men.

One morning, in the midst of sleep, a strange sensation rolls through your body. It feels like a magnetic pull, ushering you to another side of the universe; you hadn’t experienced anything like it before. It was as though an old friend were greeting you, but you couldn’t place a name to who this mysterious phantom might be. You chase sleep in a feeble attempt, but the sweetness of slumber doesn’t wash over you.

The drumming of your veins beats gently against your neck. Your heart…it beats, _tha-thump…tha-thump…_ in a discordant way.

Outside, thunder rolls and it soothes you, though the prevalent sensation that you’re not alone keeps recoiling you from the grip of sleep; a sleep you so desperately needed. You finger the meat against the palm of your hands and usher in a deep breath; once, twice, three times. But easy breathing seems far away – as far away as this figure shadowed in darkness is.

You notice that, on the third breath, the dominance of this energy was not dangerous – just overbearing; familiar, somehow, but not palpable enough to call out by name. By rote, you guide your hand into the blackness in front of you and close your eyes in concentration. At first, the sensation isn’t anything to furl you from suspicion. But then you sense a familia tie – not unlike Sabbai’s, but kinder – much less a poltergeist and rather an essence of life.

 _Could it be?_ You think.

Outside the muddied hut, a crack of thunder growls across the village like a living creature that hails in the firmament. You continue to reach back to whatever – whoever – may be reaching out to you. Rain begins to fall. It patters against the shingled roof, woven with tree branches, and the innards of the structure groan beneath its fragility.

Your name is breathed out into the universe.

Someone has called for you from lightyears away.

You withdrawal as though someone has just burned the epidermis of your skin and gasp with an urgent intake of breath. You knew that voice.

_Kylo._


	2. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: A courtship.

**_Three Years Before_ **

* * *

 

 

There is a shrill and mechanical noise that sounds once the blast doors of Snoke’s lair open. In it, the figure clad in a golden robe rises from his throne, the sparkle of his gown hitting the light into your eyes. The smell of these grounds is of blood and iron, and the rogue armor of the Pantoran guards makes you nauseous.

Baleine wasn’t ever this dark – not even in the night.

“Ah, young Calvin…” he hisses through rotted teeth. He pronounces your name with an unnecessary flourish, and you flinch at how wrong it sounds coming from this… _creature_.

You bow your head in submission, your heart remaining with your people back home. You wonder what your father would think of you kneeling for another ruler, how he’d more than likely be disappointed by your passive nature; you were never encouraged to be compliant – even in the presence of powerful men.

“Supreme Leader,” you reply, as much as it pains you. “What is thy bidding? Why have you called for me?”

Snoke walks towards you – no, _slithers_ towards you – in a treacherous manner. Your skin crawls with disgust, chin tilting away from his form as he advances closer. Soon he is no less than four feet away, his scarred head inclined as though he is inspecting your form from head to boot. The scent seeping from his pores alludes to monstrous deeds; plasma, decomposing flesh, and dried bone.

The hellhound – you’d later refer to him as such – lifts a claw with bated breath and caresses the side of your blood-pooled cheek. “You will become of very good use to me.”

It’s then that another soul enters the room.

His imprint is wild and erratic – the kind of spirit that tenses your muscles and releases them with an overwhelming intensity. You spasm, quite literally, at his arrival and shudder in the Supreme Leader’s touch. Kylo Ren. His thoughts appear like a complete sentence in your mind – as though the words are being written straight into your membrane.

 _What is this?_ He thinks.

Once Snoke releases you, you gasp and allow yourself to clutch your neck, limbs corresponding with the fear which trembles your entire body. Your nerves splinter randomly, the synapses firing wildly into space. You’d be sure to loose sight of them, never to return. His touch would have affected you permanently, no doubt.

“Kylo Ren!” booms Snoke, but he is laughing. His spoiled mouth cracks into a malicious grin – somehow it is more frightening than his frown. “How nice of you to finally join us!”

Kylo’s mask, while deadpanned by his visor, seems to betray his cool demeanor. He tilts his chin downward, bends on bruised and battered knees, and says, “Forgive me, Supreme Leader. There is no excuse for my tardiness.”

Snoke just chuckles under his breath, clasping his hands together. The way he glances between the both of you turns your gut, the sourness in the room poisoning your body. The energy envelopes you completely until it rises to your chest and drowns you.

A panic attack. It causes your sternum to tighten, your hands becoming numb and legs locking into its upright position, and you so badly want to collapse on the durasteel floor next to Kylo Ren, even despite his daunting impression.

A wave of relief – like silk fronds of light – begin to caress your hands. Whatever it is relates to the water on Baleine washing away an anxiety so strong it was exhausting. Your jaw un-clenches, fingers uncurling from your palm until the circulation returns to an acceptable state. Your eyes flutter carelessly at the embrace, breathing steadying until finally you feel…nothing.

_Nothing._

“Very good…” mumbles Snoke. “I can _feel_ this bond. It nourishes me.”

You glance towards Kylo, whose mask is directed at the floor.

“What say you, Ren?” Snoke takes in a deep breath. “Is this what you were looking for? Is _this_ the solution to our problem?” He waves a palm to you in show of excellency.

“I…” Kylo stutters. “I…I don’t know, Supreme Leader.”

Snoke reflects on his answer eagerly, long and gangling appendages steepling at his mouth. “There is only one way to be sure…” he muses, then directs his attention to your paltry form. “Child, you are trained in the Force, are you not?”

You nod dutifully. “Yes.”

“Mmm…” he hums, eyes closing firmly and an orgasmic sound escapes his thin lips very suddenly. You jump at the noise and attempt to remain steadfast in formality. “I sense both the light and the dark within you…but there is no conflict.”

At this, Kylo Ren points his mask in your direction, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“I was trained in the grey arts, Supreme Leader.”

Snoke’s voice raises an octave, excitement clouding his judgement and yours with admission. You were superior in the Supreme Leader’s eyes – _superior_. Powerful, even. You know it by the way he scowls at Ren, upper lip curling in disgust, and eyes straining darkly into his apprentice’s very own.

“What an unexpected turn of events,” he smiles, the winkles around his grey eyes deepen.

Snoke turns for his throne, gathering his robe in his hand, and pooling it at his feet. He strokes a finger idly across the arm of his chair. “The two of you will begin a courtship.”

Kylo stands at this, stature large and foreboding. Anger drips from him like a leaky faucet and his attempt to turn off the rage is fulfilling his strength. It radiates into you, collecting inside of your chest until it _burns_. There is too much strength arising from this Knight and you can hardly bear it.

“Supreme Leader!” Kylo protests. “Must this…”

“ _Silence_!” Snoke booms and the very walls shake at the sound. Your gaze keeps to the floor, submission masking your dread. “You will obey my orders! This girl is the answer to your very prayers!”

You cannot be sure what he means, but by the way Ren recants from his efforts, you know its importance is historic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like my writing is getting better as the years go by, even though it's still got a long ways to go! Thanks for all your support! I adore you guys.
> 
> Again, my Tumblr has changed! It's now LadiesofAmidala.tumblr.com


	3. A War Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fight for your very lives!"

Hannai was a poor village – a village settled in the part of Baleine where the rain poured daily. Tumultuous black clouds swarmed overhead and thundered throughout the land. While the rest of Baleine was saturated, hot, and cloudless, Hannai was muddied, foggy, and wet.

They called it the “grey lands”.

It was here where anonymous bodies were buried and the sun barely reached. It smelled like death — pulped organs and dirty wood. Most of the village was populated with diseased people; lepers and those affected by the plague. And then there were soldiers —  warriors, to be more precise. Warriors that had been raised to fight since birth – since their legs allowed them to kick and their mouths able to scream their war cry.

You _needed_ warriors — not soldiers. You required men and women who were thrust into the battlefield since infancy. These people were rogue and angry  — who wore their hair in braids and depended on steel weaponry rather than sabers or blasters.

Ruthless.

And ruthlessness was critical in a time of war. You believed that no matter what the Rebellion threw at you from then out was but of dust. For you…you had passionate beasts in your vanguard.

The leathery skin of the Vandabite (a red and scaled lizard whose speed surpassed any speeder, and its talons five feet long) felt slippery. You’d been propped upon its back and clasped into the harness — a general’s ride.

The warriors, Knights of Ren, the Bruler Squad, and the thousands of troops raised their heads as you echoed throughout the field, “ _Attention_!”

They stood still and silently, clicking their heels. The mud and grime of the field had already darkened the white of the stormtroopers.

Then the rain began. Not a mist, nor a drizzle. A full downpour.

You brush your hand against the lightsaber at your belt and exhale. Fog – no — _ice_ escapes your lips.

The Vandabite breathes softly against you and paces back and forth in front of thousands, huffing and snorting with vigor. He is restless — as are you.

“Many of you will die today!” You shout to the crowd. You can’t imagine it reaches the stormtroopers in the very back of the meadows, but you continue on until your throat is raw. “You will suffer and bleed until you cannot bleed anymore. You may be kidnapped, tortured, and interrogated. But you have been trained for this day!”

The battalion seem to agree with a nod of their head, though they remain silent. You could hear a pin drop.

“Each and every single one of you has been picked with _precision_. You were born to fight this battle! It is your destiny – as the Force allows it!”

A thunderous cry rings about the field – a _war_ cry – at these very words.

“You will win this battle for honor – for glory! Freedom! What has the council of Baleine done for you?!” You point your lightsaber at the warriors of Hannai.  “Have they sheltered you?”

“No!” they scream.

“Have they fed you?!”

“No!”

“They have abandoned you!” you shout. “They have rid of economy! They have attempted to steal your land under the guise of a false queen! They have taxed you to death in order to pay for _their_ comfort – for _their_ homes!”

The warriors beat their chests and stomp their feet into the mud.

“Today, we do not fight for the First Order! Do not fight for _me_! Today, we fight for freedom! For shelter! For food! Today, you fight for _your very lives_!”

A praise waves across the land. Even the stormtroopers have raised their fists.

 _“May the Resistance be crushed and the very council turned to dust_!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short because it's an intro to the battle!


	4. The Beginning (PART II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: A very brief mention of r*pe.

 

_**THREE YEARS BEFORE / AFTER THE MEETING WITH SNOKE** _

 

* * *

 

 

After the meeting with Snoke, there was much to think about.

A courtship with Kylo Ren? You preferred a death sentence. There couldn’t have been any worse a demand. The man was insufferable, arrogant, and carried with him the demeanor of a spoiled brat. He _was_ a prince, wasn’t he? You knew all about princes. Then again, did that title no longer exist in the Organa line now that Alderaan had been destroyed?

He must still be considered a prince, considering his mother was still alive and, as far as you know, _well_. But there was something about Kylo Ren that was to be taken seriously.

He was stubborn, yes, and that stubbornness was something to behold, but with it came a burden of great responsibility. And while you could never see yourself fond of the commander, Snoke’s obvious distaste for his loyal apprentice conjured up sympathetic feelings within you. Had Qui-Gonn been so cruel to you, you weren’t so sure you could bear it in such lengths as Kylo did, and if he couldn’t, he did a great job at hiding it.

The bleakness of space reminded you of many things – cold, distorted memories for starters, and this day would surely be catalogued as one of them. If your father were alive, he would have done anything to persuade Snoke against this impossible demand (though it would surely prove fruitless in the end). But…you understood Snoke’s reasoning for such a mandate. And, besides, who were you to challenge the Supreme Leader’s wishes? Your head would surely have ended up on a pike had you done as much – unless, of course, your suspicion that he deemed you too important turned out to be true.

Strange, however, that he’d want a union – a _courtship_. If it was offspring that Snoke wanted, he could have forced Kylo upon you without any difficulty and gotten it over with. But a courtship? That required a degree of intimacy.

You mull over all of this, eyes scanning the field of space for any intruders. _The Supremacy_ was the largest ship you had ever passengered; your quarters were rather bare, aside from the essentials such as a large bed, an icebox, a cafe maker, and a few mugs. Luxury made no appearance on the ship, though you suppose most didn’t. The thought occurs to you then that maybe _you_ might be the spoiled royal.

Just then, Kylo opens your doors with a flourish of a glove-laden hand. Stormtroopers march along the halls behind him, but you don’t have much time to look at them; Kylo somehow seems to slam the blast doors shut.

“How can I help you, _commander_?” you ask dryly, back turned to him.

Kylo appears beside you and he’s much taller with a chest so broad that even you find yourself ogling.

“I just feel as though I should tell you this won’t change my feelings towards you,” he all but mutters. “I don’t care to know you personally. To me, you’re just another objective.”

This stings, and even so, it’s more anger you feel at these words. “No need. You already know I feel the same way.” You pause. “But I do demand respect. I may not be your partner in the traditional sense, but I am your equal in war.”

Kylo scoffs at this. “ _Equal_. I hardly think so. Though, I suppose I can manage formality.”

You nod. “Good. Is there anything else?”

“Yes,” he replies. “Your ship to Baleine is ready. Pack up your things and prepare to move into my quarters.”

“Surely not on _The Supremacy_?”

He shakes his head. “No. _The Finalizer_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter because I'm a lazy fuck. 
> 
> TUMBLR: LadiesofAmidala


	5. Child of Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MENTIONS OF ABUSE

**PRESENT DAY / THE GREY LANDS BATTLE**

 

* * *

 

__

Thousands of men swarm the field, blasters firing rapidly into the air. Bits of green and red fall above you like rain and you somehow manage to avoid all plasma from penetrating you. Thousands of troops – on both sides – have directed their attention towards you as they trample over one another in a hurry. Many of your troopers have already been killed, but so have your enemies; maybe you’d win this battle.

Not that it surprises you. You had a full battalion, three AT-STs (which have yet to make an appearance, much to your annoyance), and two special forces squadrons; _this_ seemed to take the Resistance off guard. How were they to know the Bruler squad, not to mention the _Knights of Ren_ , were to participate in the fight? And the natives of Hannai? Insanity! And that was more or less what it was – absolute insanity.

The carnage was…a lot. Even for you. The Knights have slit the throats of almost every man and woman they pass – Kea especially, whose saber-axe swings wildly about him in a fit of rage. Sim wasn’t on the ground, but in the air and perched upon a tree in the very back of the meadow, her sniper ready and firing with precision. Her body count consisted mostly of headshots which, for some reason, still surprised you despite it being her specialty. Delia, the only one clad in a helmet, ran along the war path with Kea and the two of them seemed to be quite a pair – their style of fighting was gory, intense, and very angry.

Yuna and Lyre were the calmest out of all of them. The rogue seemed selfish in her attack, pushing away all enemies from Lyre, until it dawns on you that Yuna was actually _protecting_ Lyre from the onslaught. Lyre didn’t seem to be much of a fighter and, _really_ , she hadn’t been very effective so far; but if Kylo had appointed her, you expect her to surprise you eventually.

Kea calls out your name with a shout. When you turn to face him through the crowd, you notice the blood splattered upon his face – usually the sabers would cauterize the wound. _Strange_ , you think. But then you notice the native warriors with their metal weapons, sharp and crisp, slaughtering the Resistance. Dozens have fallen to the ground, their bodies mangled as they choke on their own blood.

You swing around to Kea again who calls, “THERE!” and points a finger to the enemy’s backline.

And there, perched upon a Boga, you see her.

Your mother.

 

* * *

 

 

**FIFTEEN YEARS EARLIER**

 

It was hot that day. More so than usual. The air of Baleine was scorching, the sky a cloudless azure, and the two suns baked your skin as you swung around the practice saber.

It didn’t have a blade made of plasma, but of iron. Your mother was convinced you weren’t ready for a complete saber and you still needed more training to construct such a complex weapon, but the heaviness of the iron felt wrong. Traditional sabers were practically weightless, aside from the hilt, and even then was it much easier to maneuver. But you supposed your mother was right – had you swung too hard and too untidily, you’d lose an arm. You were only a padawan – an apprentice not yet ready for such great responsibilities.

Though you’d think after two years, she’d trust you with something of such a degree. You were eight years old that day – the day your mother knew something about you was…wrong.

 _No_ , ‘wrong’ wasn’t the word you would’ve chosen – _different_ , you preferred. Yes, very different from her, who so embraced the light side of the Force. Her techniques were calm and deliberate but lacked a passion you’d so vigorously adopted for the past two years. How had she not have known? You’ve been training ever since you were six years old – you’d been showing signs of it.

Of the Dark.

Sabbai circles you as you stand in center of the arena, the pathetic excuse of a lightsaber deflecting imaginary blaster shots. Your hand grips the hilt of the weapon so tightly that it fogs beneath your touch, the steel of the handle cooling your skin. It was getting slippery from your perspiration and, eventually, the weapon flew from your grasp and clatters onto the stone of the ground.

You go to apologize, but your mother just mutters, “Again.”

Your hand wipes the sweat off your forehead. You were beginning to feel lightheaded. It had to have been eighty-eight degrees. “Mother, can we please take a break? It’s very hot.”

She narrows her eyes as though she’s confused. “In battle, do we control the weather?”

“No ma’am.”

“Do we quit because we are weak with thirst?”

You sigh. “No ma’am.”

She nods curtly and points to your weapon which has been terribly scratched from its fall. “Go on then.”

A gulp forms in your throat, but you find you can’t because of dehydration. You didn’t even have enough spit to swallow.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she growls. “Go on!”

Your legs feel wobbly, a tightness in your chest rising to your neck. You shake your head, red-faced, and say, “No.”

She tilts her head to the side. “Excuse me?”

“No,” you say again, louder this time. “I won’t do it. I need water!”

Sabbai was a large woman – tall and slender, but more so large in a sense that she was foreboding and intimidating. There was no way you could overpower her if she were to tackle you to the ground and you’d know – she has.

She walks over to you, raises a hand as though to hit you, and then freezes. Something in your body seems to have melted at her advance and there’s a strange sensation that flows against your irises when she draws near. It feels as though your eyes…they were bleeding? You press your palms against them and stifle a cry. But the pressure in your chest was rising…higher….higher…

Until finally, you snap.

The ground shakes and crackles, the stone parting and shifting underneath your feet. You’re not exactly sure how you’ve done it, but you realize you have when Sabbai gasps, pulls away from you, and with mouth agape. _She is horrified_.  

“Gods!” she shrieks. “You’re a child of darkness!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh. I hate this chapter. 
> 
> Someone pointed out to me that the flashbacks were a bit confusing, so I've added the setting to how many years have passed. Hopefully this clears things up a bit!


	6. Lacuna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Well, you'll see.

 

Rain began to pour heavily. The sky turned black.

            There she was – your mother, clad in golden armor with her saber hitched at her side. The boga she sat upon was stout but thick with reptilian skin.

            She stares at you with ice in her eyes. The air is dense, thick with the stench of death, and scattered with blood curdling screams. Sabbai’s presence is heavy and it bears down your shoulders with a great ache. You feel lightheaded from the dull prickling at the outsides of your brain, shadows of men dizzying in your peripheral vision. Sabbai’s powers were something you couldn’t stand a chance against at such close proximity; if she were able to cause migraines from light-years away, she could render you brain-dead from here.

            You considered running, but that was cowardly.

            A voice like silk, though tinged with chaos, whispers: _I see you. You are exposed…like a nerve._

The fact that she was your mother hadn’t even crossed your mind. She knew she’d kill you as easily as she could end the life of a bug. Suddenly, you feel weak and unworthy. All your life she had abused you; emotionally, physically. And still, in your maturity, you felt young and imprisoned.

            _Get out_ , you snarl.

            From across the field, she grins wickedly. You see it even betwixt the monsoon.

            But then it happens.

            Another voice. No. Impression. A sensation. It trickles through you like water, gathering the pain, and dissolving it into thin air. The pulling at your membranes have gone as quickly as breath, the fire licking at your temples extinguishing.

            _Resist her._

You choke on a sob. It couldn’t be. He was gone – dead. His body must have been decaying in the ground or the ashes of him graining the expanse of space. You’ve convinced yourself of his death – you mourned him, buried him deep within the darkest expanses of your soul. The pain of loosing him was too real…too powerful…

            But no. Not as powerful as his earthly form.

            You search the field, desperate to find him. He would stick out like a sore thumb, you thought. The depressing idea that maybe he was communicating with you from beyond the grave shatters you. But then you spot him from the break of trees on the outskirts of Hannai.

            He saunters slowly, as though the battle before him wasn’t raging on. You gasp, one single tear falling upon your rain-soaked cheek. Your hands shook, muscles clenching. He is here. He is _here_. His broad frame and black hair…all of it. He was alive and in one piece. The Force could not be so cruel as to fool you with hallucinations, could it?

            Nevertheless, you abandon your mother’s phantom and _run_ to him.

            Run through the blood, through the grime and mud, and through the fallen soldiers with hollow chests. Your breathing is rapid, heart pumping wildly, veins throbbing from desire. You can’t get to him _fast_ enough. _Hurry_ , you tell yourself, as though he’ll evaporate into thin air.

            But he doesn’t. You slam against him with a force so strong, it knocks the breath out of you. Your arms lock around his solid form and you sob into his chest, gripping his armor until your knuckles whiten.

            You grasp his face betwixt two palms. “Where were you?!” you bellow. “I thought I lost you! I thought I _lost_ you…”

            Kylo cups your cheeks as well, pulling you into a deepening kiss; a kiss that did not lack passion.

            And in that very moment, you sense it; Sabbai’s presence has gone. It is victorious.

            She has fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY IT'S SHORT. SORRY. *Cries* Sorrrrrrry.


	7. Amaranthine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Cursing and fluff.

  
The battle had ended after Sabbai’s show of cowardice. The enemy troops scattered across the countryside and fled back to their hiding holes like the vermin they were. Medics had begun to take the injured by stretchers to base camp where they would be stitched within an inch of their lives. The scene was gruesome and soaked with blood.

But Kylo’s chest was warm and familiar. It brought you strength and comfort during the most trialing of times. Your arms wrapped around his waist and your cheek pressed flush against the scratchy fabric of his tunic. You refused to let him go for, what felt like, hours. But then reality dawned upon you. If he was here, then where was he for the past two weeks?

You pull away from him and his arms unloosen themselves around you. You find yourself glaring upwards at him, eyes narrowed. He had abandoned you, hadn’t he? He left without a single word or any clue as to where he might have gone.

“You…” you growl. “Where were you?!”

Kylo is taken aback by the change in your demeanor, but he had to have expected this. You notice then, while glowering up at him, that there was something off about his posture. He seemed defeated and worn like the faded cape billowing behind him.

Still. You wouldn’t let him get off easy this time.

“We’ll talk about it later…” he mumbles, eyeing the damage in the field.

“No!” You shout. “We’re talking about it now.”

You grab his hand, the leather warming the inside of your wrist, and clench it so that he can’t get away. You can’t loose him again – you just can’t.

The woods in Hannai are muggy, hot, and infested with yikka flies. You swat them out of your face as the two of you settle into a clearing where the ground isn’t as spongey as the rest, skin reddening from the humidity in the air.

Kylo begins to open his mouth, but you stop him by shrieking, “I thought you were dead! I thought I was one of those…” you stumble over your thoughts, grasping at them like straws before they dissipated completely. “…those war widows!”

The knight before you retaliates with, “I did it to protect you and the children!”

“Bullshit!” you shout. It echoes against the trees of the forest. “Tell me why I shouldn’t take your other arm!”

Kylo rolls his eyes at this and that pisses you off more than anything he’s said or done so far. You wait, eyebrow arched, and leg bobbing with anxiety.

“Snoke’s dead,” he replies coolly. “I killed him.”

You blink, and then laugh a little. No way. There was no way. “What?”

“I needed to…” Kylo shakes his head with frustration and steps forward – you step backward. He cringes at this, fists tensing themselves at his sides. “I needed to wait until the smoke cleared.”

You rub your eyes with your palms, pressing them so that any tension might subside. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “Why?”

Kylo freezes. “Why what?”

“Why did you kill him?”

At first, there’s nothing in the air that might arouse your suspicions. He simply stares at you, face neutral, until he begins to purse his lips and roll his weight upon each leg. Then you see it.

The vision comes to you like a dream. The image – no, memory – is faded at the edges, but a halo of light produces itself around the playback. You see the scavenger forcibly kneeling before Snoke, deadly – though inexperienced – eyes scowling upon him. Kylo’s hand blurs the scene, two fingers propping his grandfather’s lightsaber into position, and then striking.

“Oh, Kylo…” you whisper, voice trembling. “You didn’t.”

Kylo turns his chin away from you. “I need her alive.”

You scoff, eyes wetting. “You need her alive?”

“She has something I need.”

“If you mean that goddamned lightsaber…” you spit through gritted teeth.

Kylo envelopes the space between you with two long strides. “It’s more than that and you know it.”

“Really? Is it?!” You snatch the lightsaber hitched at your side, clench it between two hands, and snap it into two with nothing but the Force to aid your effort. “It’s a piece of metal, Kylo!”

Kylo stares in awe at the mangled saber upon the ground. The crystal in the center of the hilt has now been crushed, allowing a small bout of steam to rise from its remains.

“What’s more important? Your children or that damned weapon?!” You kick the pieces out of the way with your boot. “That lightsaber isn’t going to bring back your grandfather and tell you what to do!”

“It’s the only thing of his passed onto me!”

You stare blankly at the ground and wait for him to continue, empty and experiencing a sense of foolishness.

“Maz Kanata,” he says after a moment of silence. The air is stewing with tension. “Do you know of her?”

You nod. Who in this galaxy didn’t? “The Pirate Queen.”

Kylo takes a heavy breath. “She found it at an outpost on some desolate planet during her travels. My father frequents her palace on occasion – like most smugglers do. He immediately recognized it and asked that she keep it safe for Luke…” he trails off and glances at the sky. It’s still raining, but less heavily now. “But Luke had no children to pass it onto, so it went to me.”

You square your jaw before he continues, feeling rather dejected.

“By the time I had taken my rightful place behind Snoke, it was gone. I searched everywhere for it. Maz must have done a hell of a job keeping it hidden, because it wasn’t until that night on Starkiller that I finally saw it for the first time…” he pauses and nothing sounds about the clearing but the ringing of your ears. “But it didn’t call to me. It called to her. And I have to know why.”

You want to tell him that his grandfather’s spirit is proud of him – that a piece of him lives within him. You want to say that the saber is nothing more than a piece of machinery and that this scavenger girl doesn’t have his grandfather’s eyes or his passion for greatness.

But the only thing you can say is, “Well, now I’m out a lightsaber and I owe you an apology…” in a pathetic squeak.

You’re relieved to see Kylo fight a grin. “Actually, you’re not…” he says, shuffling around his belt.

A familiar, cold piece of metal is placed gently in your hands. It’s your saber, completely intact. “How did you…?”

“I know it’s unethical of me to have constructed it, but I noticed your power cell was weakening…” He watches as you twist and weight it in your palm. “When I was away, I stayed at Ferrum…”

You nod. “Where you got BB.”

“Yes. They have advanced knowledge of crystals and lightsabers.” He urges you to turn it on with a flourish of his hand.

“It’s exactly like my old one.” You smile in its grey lighting.

“Press that button,” he says, pointing to a small circle underneath the power switch.

So you do. A beam of royal purple shoots out from both ends of the weapon. You gasp.

“Holy shit,” you utter.

Kylo allows himself to smile at you, the brilliant hue shining against his dark eyes. “That’s not all. Press this button too.”

There’s another rectangular switch. You press it. And except for purple, the light surrounding the two of you glows crimson. Your breath falters and you look up at him through the saturation of color. It’s magnificent.

“Kylo, I…” You’re at a loss for words.

“It’s the first of its kind.” He says, admiring the object in your hands. The two of you gawk at it like you’re seeing a brand new planet with a naked eye.

Your affection for him overwhelms you. You want to say ‘thank you’. It comes out as, “You can’t just come back and woo me with gifts.”

He smirks lopsidedly. Handsomely. Sweetly. “I’m not wooing you with gifts,” he says. “Just one.”

You roll your eyes playfully, all anger towards him dissolving like water in hot air. You turn off the saber and latch it onto your belt at your side.

Then you sigh, walking into his personal expanse and brushing your hands along his chest. “I’m not going to tell you what to do about the scavenger girl. I know you’ll make the right choice. I’m behind you.”

Kylo gums the inside of his cheek, his eyes somewhere far away. “I don’t believe in her cause.”

You shake your head. “You don’t have to.”

There’s a brief pause where only the birds sing. The rain is faltering now, so a thick fog begins to rise about you. You wonder if the Knights are concerned as to whether or not you’ve killed their commander in a fit of rage. You should head back.

But then Kylo says very suddenly, “You know I love you.”

Your heart softens like butter and you nod. “I know.”

“And I’ll do anything to protect my family. By whatever means necessary.”

“Of course,” you agree. You raise on the very tops of your feet to brush away a lock of his hair from his eyes. “The children miss you.”

He watches as you fix the cape around his shoulders with warm eyes. “Do they?” He’s smirking.

You smile back at him through your lashes. “Of course. I spoke to Nyx today. Enyos sleeps with her blanket every night; the one made from your old tunics.”

Something untethers from him. His muscles loosen and his eyes brighten. He reaches a hand to card his fingers through your sticky hair. Damn this humidity.

“We’ll be with them soon enough.” Then he pauses, one eyebrow cocking. “I’m still waiting for that apology.”

You bat your eyes playfully and lean in to kiss his lips. How sweet, how glorious they are. His touch is divine and his hands makes you quiver like an arrow in flight. Reunions like yours deserved kisses like his.

The two of you pull away from one another with a soft pop. His eyes are still closed, relishing in the sensation. Your heart flutters.

“Is that all?” he teases, his voice barely but a whisper. The two of you remain entwined with one another, his glove laden hands still clenching the flesh of your hips.

“Patience is but a virtue,” you breathe against him.

Kylo Ren, now Supreme Leader of the First Order, shudders in your arms.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amaranthine: A deep purple-red. Undying. Immortal. Eternally beautiful.  
> -  
> HEY. I did not proof-read this. Enjoy, fuckers.  
> -  
> HARLEY was the one to suggest blankets made for the children out of old tunics. Thanks Harley, you precious space witch.


	8. Fika

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: A bar story.

The fields of Hannai were burnt to a crisp.

The flame throwers from the First Order troops had damaged a quarter of the grain. You knew it was necessary, but you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of guilt. You were fighting for the people, but had destroyed their crops and, thus, their livelihood.

And then there were the victims; bloodied and beaten. Most of them had perished, but some survived with only moments of life left in their eyes. Still, the medics propped them upon a stretcher and carried them to the infirmary tent. They screamed in agony, their pain reverberating throughout the land, as the doctors worked over them tirelessly, cutting off ineffacious limbs or seaming wounds.

You watched as a medic popped a twisted joint back into place. The patient was large and burly – like Kea – and still let out a blood-curdling scream. When you heard the crunch of bone, you lowered your brows in sympathetic affliction and shuddered. Kylo places a hand on your shoulder in attempt to comfort you, but it does nothing.

“Commander,” says a voice from behind. “Congratulations.”

The voice belonged to Lieutenant Ika. He stood before you, heels clicking in a show of respect. You grimaced at him and told him he was at ease.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. How many did we loose?”

Ika glances behind his shoulder at the medical tent. “About three hundred.” He sounds disappointed.

 You sigh. “That’s not great, but it’s not terrible either. Prepare funerals for each of them; if I have to pay it out of pocket, I will.” You pause. “And Lieutenant?”

“Yes, commander?”

“Your valor will not be forgotten.”

Ika smiles and nods his head slightly. “Thank you, commander,” he says and walks away.

You square your jaw and dig the meat of your palms with your fingernails. Your people were dying and you hadn’t. Survivor’s guilt usually meant nothing to you, but suddenly it seemed to worm its way into your chest cavity.

Kylo leans into mutter, “You’re better at this than I am.”

You try to smile at him. “Well, I have people skills.” This joke is forced.

He watches you warily, eyes scanning yours for any sign of relief. He must find none, because he takes your hand and squeezes it gently.

Then you feel a pair of eyes upon you and notice the vibration of an uneasy spirit; it’s angry, but dejected. It’s only when you turn that you see the red headed General marching towards you with his glove-laden fists at his sides.

“Oh no.” You take a deep breath, crossing your hands at the center of your stomach. You couldn’t afford to let Hux see you so vulnerable; he might one day use it to his advantage. “Hello, General.”

Hux glares at you, green eyes boring holes into yours. He straightens before saying, “What a mess. I expected more of you, ambassador.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Did you?”

“I did. Causing an unnecessary war? Ridiculous.”

“They threatened my life, General. Not to mention attacked the First Order directly, and they colluded with the Resistance. I hardly call that unnecessary.”

The general scoffs. “It’s careless. Not to mention expensive.”

You were in absolutely no mood for his antics today. If allowed, you’d wring his neck right here in the center of the battlefield; what’s one more victim?

“No,” you growl. “What’s careless is mingling emotion with war games.”

You’re referring to Sabbai’s untimely death, of course. Hadn’t he known it was to be done eventually? This was very unlike him.

You watch as a vein throbs in his forehead. He takes a step forward as though to advance to you, but Kylo breaks the space between you and strikes a vigilant stance.

“Tread lightly, Hux,” he snarls.

The broken man – for he _had_ to have been broken – takes a deep breath and finally turns away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The roar of the cantina was deafening, though you still manage to hear Kea shout with justice.

“I win!” he roars.

The table groans and shoves their bets to him, defeat etched upon their faces. You smack your hands on the table and tilt your head back against your chair.

“Kea, you big brute!”

Kea smiles widely, a set of sparkling teeth glinting in the lights overhead. “Many years of Sabaac playing have gotten me to this level of skill, ambassador.”

After the victory, the Knights of Ren, yourself, and Kylo (though begrudgingly) had decided to celebrate with a few drinks in the local cantina. A few drinks turned into three, four, five, and then a high-stakes game of Sabaac. You weren’t very good at it, but you figured you deserved to lose _something_ today, even if that meant getting wasted on numerous glasses of Ferment; a frothy, neon green drink with a high alcohol content. Kylo had opted for glasses of straight rum and he downed them like he would water. You’ve only seen him drink once, and it was over a year ago. Watching the commander loosen up never failed to amaze you.

Though, then again, you’ve never seen him _trashed_.

When Kylo drank heavily, you noticed that the tint of his eyes grew lighter, that his shoulders dropped, and his expressions grew more animated. You also observed the faint blushing of his pale, mole-kissed skin and wondered: _when was the last time he drank this much_? You imagined Ben Solo in a cantina much like this in the slums of Tatooine, taking shots, playing holochess, and arguing with Wookies. The idea made you grin to yourself. Did he have much of his father hidden in him? Or was that part of him gone?

“Well,” you begin. “I applaud you, Kea. You’re very talented.”

Kea flexes his excessive muscles in a faux show of dominance. The table boos in good humor and Delia throws an unlit Death Stick at his face.

“Yeah,” she chuckles. “It’s the one thing he has!”

Kea rolls his dark eyes and leans back upon his chair. When he glances wickedly at Kylo, who observes the party with nonchalance, you get the sense that you’re about to discover an entirely different side of your husband.

“Let’s play strip Bala!” he says. “That’s more interesting.”

Everyone moans.

“Kea, don’t be such a whore,” Yuna teases, waving a thin hand towards her companion.

“But it’s too much fun,” he grins. He holds up his drink, which is something heady. “Let us play in Snoke’s honor…that bastard had it coming!”

The Knights shout with jubilance and lift their glasses. “Hear, hear!”

All of you take a drink, except Delia, who chugs hers entirely. You look upon her with amazement, gawking at her ability to gulp an entire glass in only a few seconds. What a band of heathens.

Kea crosses his arms behind his head and turns his attention to Kylo. “But back to strip Bala…” he pauses. “Commander, do you remember that night on Canto Bight? The back room?”

Kylo raises an eyebrow and brings his glass to his lips. “No. And neither do you, Kea.”

Lyra gasps. “You can’t possibly talk about this with his lady in the room!”

Curiosity flashes across your face. You lean in and whisper, “What are we talking about?”

Kea grins handsomely. “I’m afraid he’ll have my tongue if I say more.”

“I’ll make it so he won’t. Continue, _please_.”

Kea analyzes his commander’s expression, but Kylo just rolls his eyes and continues nursing his drink. The Heavy takes this as the go-ahead. “Picture this: The Yuka Lounge in the The Red Room.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Ooo. The _Red Room_.”

Everyone has gathered closely around the table, listening intently at Kea’s story as though they weren’t there.

“Our objective was to find an arms dealer by the name of Kidda. We’d been working hard all day and we needed a break, you know, like human beings do…” he glares at Kylo teasingly. “Anyway, Delia and I desperately wanted to have some fun, so we invited a couple of girls to the back room for some drinks…”

“Oh!” you gasp. “The Yuka Lounge was a striptease?”

You can’t imagine Kylo frequenting an establishment of that sort; it makes you laugh and, if you’d be honest? A little turned on. This confused you. Maybe knowing that Kylo is more experienced than you expected had an effect on your, well, _nether regions_.

“A burlesque club actually, but essentially a striptease, yes.” Kea laughs heartily. “It was pricey.”

“Interesting. Keep going,” you urge.

“So, the girls decide they want to play a game which is, of course, strip Bala.” He runs his hands across his shaven head. “All of us agree; even Lyra.”

You gawk at her in surprise. Lyra had taken a vow of celibacy.

“I object!” she cries out. “I walked out before Kylo…”

“Shh! I’m getting to that part!” Kea retorts. “Don’t _ruin_ this for me. Anyway, Commander Ren over there is cross-armed in the corner with his helmet screwed on too tight. It takes a lot of convincing, but I tell him to relax and have a drink. Ren used to be a playboy back at the academy, you know.”

Luke’s academy. You often forget that Kylo was once training to be a Jedi Knight.

 _Don’t listen to them_ , Kylo projects.

_Oh, but it’s so interesting._

“Basically, if I’m a whore, he’s the whole whore house.” Kea smirks his way.

Kylo brings a hand to his face and rubs his eyes. “For fuck’s sake.”

His cursing has you raising your brows in surprise. What a different man this is!

“Anyway!” Kea starts again. “I convince him to have a drink or two. Or three. Or four. Whatever. And soon he’s drunk out of his mind with his helmet completely off and this stupid ass smile on his face. He’s plastered. Completely and utterly plastered. Everyone in the room is done for.”

“Kind of like now,” you input.

“Exactly. But _worse_.” Kea begins to slur now, the drinks coming to effect. “So, at this point, everyone is done for. Yuna is vomiting in the corner. Delia is laughing her ass off at gods know what. Lyra is at back at base, probably _reading_ or something…”

Lyra rolls her eyes at this.

“-and I’m looking for our commander because he’s nowhere to be found. He’s, like, completely gone. And I find him…” Kea pauses, eyes crossing a little now. “Guess where I find him?”

You stifle a giggle. “Where?”

Kea proclaims, “I find him sucking face with the blonde in the alley without anything on but his _gloves_.”

You gasp loudly. “No shit!”

“Yes shit. The two of them are completely out of their minds drunk. Kylo wouldn’t even have been able to have gotten it up, that’s how bad he was.”

Kylo murmurs into his drink, “You’re dead.”

“What?!” You clench Kylo’s thigh underneath the table as a show of affection. “No way!”

“Yes way! So I go over there to stop him and you know…” he stutters. “You know what the bastard says?”

“What did he say?”

“He says, ‘I hope she’s a better lay than she is dancer’!” Kea slaps the table and roars with laughter.

The whole of the group – with the exception of Kylo, of course – absolutely loose their minds. They hit one another on the back, red-faced, and out of breath. It occurs to you then how much you’ve missed out on Kylo’s life; what you wouldn’t do to see that man, to _know_ him.

“Kylo!” you tease, hitting him on the shoulder. “That’s terrible!”

“We were younger, ya know…in our early twenties.” Kea shrugs. “All of us.”

You lean into Kylo’s chest and smile at him through your lashes. “Oh, you poor, poor creature. I would never have expected this from you…” you pause and then, after a moment of careful consideration, say to Kea, “Tell me more about his infidelities.”

Kylo abruptly stands and takes your hand. “We’re going to bed now…” He sways on his feet a little.

“What?!” you protest. “No!”

“Yes,” he ripostes. “I’m starting to feel ill and you’re asking stupid questions.”

You tear your hand away from his grip and cross your arms against your chest. Gods, you’re starting to feel really warm and lightheaded. “I’m not asking _questions_ …” your voice squeaks and you hiccup. “I’m demanding stories because you don’t _tell_ me any.”

Your husband’s face softens, even in the presence of his inferiors. He leans into you and presses his lips against the softness of your neck. “Come on, baby, _please_.” His breath smells of drink.

Yuna groans, tossing her hands into the air while you giggle drunkenly. “Alright, alright!” she yells. “Get a room!”

You take Kylo’s hand and it envelopes yours.

Then the two of you make a break for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Shakes head* I know you were looking forward to smut, but don't worry! Some of it is written and in my drafts. Next chapter, okay? 
> 
> Also, this is terribly written. I have no patience of attention span for this shit.


	9. Laconic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is absolutely filthy.

“You’re cute when you’re drunk,” Kylo says, running a hand down your exposed neck. He places two fingers on your jugular, which is warm and throbbing with blood.

The two of you have managed to find your hut, even in your inebriated state. While you tried to mask your deliriousness by walking stiffly through the camp, you felt eyes on you the whole time. The darkness made it especially difficult and Kylo – even Kylo – was having trouble seeing through the night. So, maybe you tripped over a weapons crate. And?

“What are you doing?” you giggle. The alcohol has made you dizzy with joy. 

Kylo grins lopsidedly, the rum evident on his breath. You find it actually smells good – delicious, even. You want to kiss him. No – need to kiss him. It hits you very abruptly that you can do that whenever you wanted because he is here – he is alive.

“I’m taking your pulse,” he mutters.

“Why?” 

“Because,” Kylo slurs. “Sometimes I have to remind myself you’re real.” 

Your body is confused by how it wishes to respond to this. Your thighs clench together while your stomach does innocent flips; the two reactions were polar opposites. It makes you laugh a little and you lean into him, pushing your face into his barrel of a chest. The aroma from the cantina still wisps off of him, but he somehow makes it appealing; even the odor of Death Stick smoke has you swooning.

You toss your hair from out of your face, eyes glassy from drink. “Take me to bed,” you tell him in a whisper. “Do whatever you want with me.” 

He steadies the both of you. While the room hasn’t started spinning, and you’re able to make conscious and healthy decisions, you do feel lightheaded. You hadn’t ever seen Kylo drunk before, but you can see that someone else is emerging from him. 

Ben Solo. 

Kylo growls playfully, wraps his arms around your buttocks, and lifts you against him. 

“Whatever I want?” His voice is laced with insatiable desire. 

You nod, shivering, and rut against his groin.

“Whatever you want…sir.” 

Something in his dark eyes sparks wildly. You hadn’t ever called him “sir” before; not on the bridge and certainly never in bed. You’d never succumbed to referring to him as your superior because, in truth, he wasn’t. But tonight, you wanted him to take you – to use you – to be in control. 

He lowers you to the ground. In the darkness of the hut, there is only the light of the moon – a beam of silver cascading upon the earthy ground. Kylo is shrouded in darkness as you waver slowly in the center of the light, clothing rumpled and hair tucked behind your ears. The blush of alcohol paints your cheeks – you can feel the blood rushing to them while simultaneously generating heat between your thighs. 

“Kneel,” he demands, voice low and silhouette impossible to find.

You do as he says, lowering yourself until your knees hit the spongey, forest floor. You await further instruction in silence. His footsteps grow heavy – more demanding – before he steps into the radius of the light.

You should have been frightened by the way he circled you; his pace slow and deliberate, even while intoxicated. But you were liquifying before him and begging him with your eyes for something you didn’t quite understand. The sex between the two of you was always in casual circumstance. Aside from a quickie on the command shuttle, the two of you hadn’t ever ventured into uncharted territory. Sure, he’d slapped your ass before, but he’s never told you to kneel – he’s never looked at you like, well, this. 

You watch him through your lashes coly, hands crossed in your lap as you balance on two knees. 

“Look at you…” he hums, tilting your chin upwards with his index finger. “So patient…”

There is a remarkable tension coiling in your belly. You’ve had relations with Kylo many times; after all, you’ve borne three of his children. But you feel submissive, vulnerable, exposed, and in the best way possible. You want him to keep doing whatever this was and to never stop. 

Kylo centers himself before you and then begins to free himself from his trousers. You watch with mouth agape as his cock springs free and reveals itself to you, fully erected. You bite your lip and watch as it twitches slightly in his hand, glistening with precum. 

“Did you miss this cock?” he asks you, voice gruff. 

You nod. “Yes.” 

He hums in satisfaction and you froth over the thickness and girth of it. You wanted that inside of you – to wreck your body and to leave you weak the next day. 

Kylo grins, as though he can hear your thoughts. “Open that pretty mouth for your husband.” 

You do so, though gingerly; Kylo’s dick was no small feat.

Once he pushes the tip past your lips, he lets out a controlled groan and flexes his hands at his sides. You hum around him and still yourself, knowing that he’ll push himself further inside of your mouth. 

“That’s good. Take it,” he growls. 

You recall never feeling optimistic about blow jobs. You’ve heard horror stories. Your maidens would agree, in unison, that they were called jobs for a reason. His girth was unsettling, big, suffocating. You never expected to be that girl - the one who wanted to choke. The one who wanted to be ruined. But the moment he settled you onto your knees, saliva pooled in your cheeks.

This wasn’t a job. This was _breakfast_. 

“I’m gonna fuck this throat raw,” he growls. 

While taken aback, you were not unwilling. You nod, head bobbing against his dick, your nose pressed up against the hair of his groin. _Yes, please_ , you think.

Kylo walks you to the wall of the hut without disconnecting himself from your mouth. Your neck bends as he hovers himself over you, crouching like an animal to get a better angle. His dick plunges straight to the back of your throat so deeply that he can trace the outline of himself against you. 

“Hold still,” he growls. 

You do, as impossible as it is. Your nose inhales against him, chest heaving, and your nipples peaking. His warm, salty precum slides easily down your throat; your eyes have started to water, his length becoming too much. 

He must understand this because he pulls himself from you, though slowly. You gag violently and shudder when he slips out, a spittle of cum tearing away at the distance. 

“One day I’ll make you keep my load on your tongue. But not now...” he lifts you into his arms, gripping your legs, and straddling them around his waist. “Now I have to fuck you.” 

You’re shoved back against the stone of the wall, his cock teasing your entrance. He hasn’t released you from his waist, but manages to align himself with your pussy. The sensation of his hands, the taste of salt in your mouth, and the lips that suck against your neck have weakened you in the best way possible. 

Kylo kisses your collarbone and brushes his lips against your breasts. “How do you want me, baby?”

You sigh, giving him further access to your tits by arching yourself in his hold. “Mercilessly.”

He takes a breast in your mouth, his tongue rolling around the areola, and then sucking on the nipple. You gasp, running your fingers through his wavy hair and pulling slightly. His tongue moves in patterns you tried to follow, but the pleasure he was gifting you was fogging your mind entirely. What day was it again?

Kylo releases you and you mewl at the loss of his touch. You want to beg him for something, but you didn’t know exactly what it was. Finally, he carries you to the cot – which wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it’ll do – and lays you on your back.

You crook a finger in your mouth teasingly when you’re settled. “Be gentle with me…” you tease.

He chuckles deep in his chest. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

You can’t help but smile mischievously and lift a leg to expose yourself to him. You’re glistening wet and the cool air that hits your pussy causes goosebumps to raise along the surface of your skin.

Kylo’s eyes sparkle in the moonlight as he examines you, taking your legs, and spreading them further. He lays on his stomach, eye-level with your cunt, and runs a finger down your slit. 

You moan seductively, running a hand through your hair which has been splayed against the pillow. Gods, if he kept this up, you don’t know what you’d do. You try to buck up against him, but he grabs your hips and stills you against the mattress. 

You whine and struggle against his hold. 

“Mmm…” He licks his lips. And before you can say anything else, Kylo lifts your hips and pulls you to the edge of the bed to gain better access. 

“I love you,” you breathe. “I love you so much.”

The intimacy fills the air with a softness – if it had a color, it would have been pink. 

Kylo kisses the inside of your thighs and lifts your legs so that they may rest upon his shoulders. “I love you, baby…” he moans into your skin.

You want to touch him, but he’s too far away. You whimper for him, but he just smirks at you between two thighs.

“Since when have you started calling me ‘baby’?” You crane your neck to see him, one eyebrow cocking in a show of perplexity. 

Kylo presses a kiss to your mound and brushes his nose against your labia. You shiver.

“Since I had that third glass of rum…” he winks and then, without warning you at all, dives into your pussy. 

You’re startled, but pleasantly surprised. “Oh…”

Kylo has many skills, but none as appealing to you as oral sex. His broad tongue paints languidly over your hole and then brings his lips to suck gently on your clit, awarding him a generous amount of watery cum to coat his mouth. Your head presses into the pillow, hand clapping against your mouth so that you don’t scream and wake the entire base.

He flicks the tip of his tongue against your bud and tingles – which felt like delicious bursts of electricity – erupt in your belly. You whine, thrusting against his mouth as his tongue begins to spear gently into your hole, curling it perfectly. You’re absolutely pinned to his face. 

“Kylo, I’m going to…”

Immediately, he pulls away. Part of you is grateful that he did, and there’s that devious desire that he make you cum right there and then. You settle your breathing, pressing a hand to your breast, and feel your heart thump wildly. But Kylo doesn’t let you rest for very long. Soon, he’s flipped you over onto your stomach, hands grabbing at your hips, and exposing you to him. You moan at the coarseness of his actions and press your face into the mattress as he steadies himself behind you. 

A palm digs into the flesh of your hip so forcibly that you think a bruise might develop; you were fine with it. More than fine. At this point, if he wanted to bend you over and fuck you in front of his inferiors, you’d let him. 

Kylo peppers kisses on your back, his lips caressing any scars or imperfections. You sigh at his touch as though his hands were an antidote; he was releasing so much pain that you had harbored over the past few weeks. His fingers felt liberating. You were clean.

He leans into you, the head of his cock pushing through your folds and wetting itself on your drippings. And then finally, finally, he sheathes himself into you. His words falter, as he goes to say something your ear, but he just lets out an animalistic groan instead. 

His cock was bigger than you remembered. He stretches you so widely that the canals of your vagina can’t flutter around him. You’re able to milk him slightly, but it isn’t easy. The only thing you can do is keigel against him.

But he doesn’t need your guidance; he knows where it is. The angle of which his dick has speared you probes against your g-spot and you can’t help but whine in pleasure, gripping the blankets and mumbling incoherent curses. 

“Just as tight as the first time…” he growls, pressing your upper body further into the mattress. He pulls out just slightly, and then rams himself back in vigorously. When you let out a gasp, he clasps a hand around your mouth and whispers, “Don’t want to wake the General, do we?”

Oh shit. Hux’s tent was right beside yours – you had forgotten that. 

To hell with it. Hux needed some kind of action in his life, didn’t he? Maybe that’s why he’s so wound up all the time. You imagine Hux not having much of a sex drive though; you imagine he didn’t feel much of anything at all, actually. Other than anger and cordial feelings of course, but only if the wind blew west that day. 

You want to tell Kylo: _Who gives a shit about that red headed fuck?_ but you’re starting to think you might choke on your own drool. 

Still, you can’t help but moan, “Let them hear that I am yours.”

Kylo grinds into you as deeply as he can at these words. You’re starting to feel like rubber until he finally pulls out and holds the base of his cock with one hand. 

You begin to protest before he demands, “On your back.”

Never in your life have you moved so quickly. 

“Good,” he says, reaching to trace the Cupid’s bow of your lips. He falters. “Are you on birth control?”

“No.”

You suppose you weren’t fertile enough to get pregnant again. After the triplets, you felt as though it would be impossible to have any sort of “accident”. Your children felt like a gift after the miscarriage; like they were your only chance. 

Kylo seems to read your thoughts, his hungry eyes observing your own in the moonlight. He arches a brow and presses his face into your neck as you stroke the waves of his raven locks.

“Then let’s see how fertile you really are,” he breathes. 

Oh. 

Your eyes involuntarily roll into the back of your head. “Yes, please…” you beg, hands clenching his biceps. 

He hums something garbled and then lifts your legs around him. In one swift movement, he enters you again, except now he gives you no time to adjust. You cry out in pleasure, raking your fingernails down the length of his back. If he bled, he bled. 

Kylo thrusts firmly and speedily within you, much like a piston works a machine. He grabs your chin and brings you into a lascivious kiss as the two of you thrust against one another. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if the mattress will hold up. 

When he finishes with the kiss – which was teeth and all – his hand glides down to take your mandible in a firm grip. You hate yourself for becoming more wet at this, eyes straining to stay open, and mouth formed into a desperate “oh”. 

Kylo glances down at where the two of you connect; your gaze follows his. The width of his cock has stretched your labia so tightly that even the slickness of you is not enough to cause him to slip out. He’s red-faced and sweaty, breathing haggard.

“Fuck…” 

He stutters his hips once more before he comes, his load so massive that you overflow with his seed. You gasp at the amount, never having seen so much of it in your life. Had he not touched himself while he was away? Nevertheless, you’re surprised to find that it spurs you on even more, especially by the way your pussy squelches beneath him. A mixture of your come runs warmly down the inside of your thighs and the sensation is enough to make your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

“Come on, baby. Need to feel your pussy twitch around me…” Kylo grunts, thrusting himself even deeper until he’s filled you to the hilt. 

That’s what does it. Every nerve in your body alights; your limbs stiffen and your joints lock into place before you inevitably liquify beneath him. The orgasm is so strong that you manage to lift yourself during it, and when it’s over, your abs have already begun to ache. 

He wraps his arms around you as you shake violently against him, heart pumping as though you had just sprinted for miles. You reach out a trembling hand to brush his hair away from his eyes, which have softened into a more mellow kind of brown. The two of you laugh with one another very quietly. 

You take your index finger and lower it to your entrance. When you swipe yourself, you find your palm is covered with him. You raise a brow, smirking with amusement.

Kylo seems to blush, but it’s hard to tell in the softness of the light. “I’ll get my cowl…”

You nod and allow him to untangle himself from you. Kylo disappears into the shadows of the hut and you glance down at yourself, watching as the creamy liquid slips between your thighs. 

You wonder:  _Would there be another_ ? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing to say for myself.


	10. Cingulomania

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Fluff.

He was not so easy to look away from.

  
Even in the softness of the moon’s light, he was a sight; his eyes burned wildly in the night like a violent forest fire, completely ablaze. You trace the structure of his Romanesque nose, finger gliding down its unevenness, until it reaches his mandible, and then cup his cheek with the palm of your hand. It was in these moments that you found a sense of ease; the quietness between the two of you while you lay in one another’s arms, bare, and sticky from sweat. No exchanging of words were mandatory because his facial expressions told you everything you needed to know; the way his eyebrow furrowed in genuine concern when you sniffled from allergies (Hannai’s meadows) and when he smirked tiredly as you counted his moles under your breath.

  
He thawed like ice in your hands when your fingers grazed against him; his jaw unclenching, and muscles loosening whenever the tips of your fingers traced slight patterns against his biceps. But this was the very same for him as well; when he brushed his lips against the nape of your neck, your body unwound itself from an impossible tangle of sinew and bone.

  
He holds you now, very tightly against his chest, while you listen to his heartbeat very carefully; one, two, three, four, five…he was alive. His blood beat against his veins, his pulse rapid and steady against the pads of your thumbs, and his flesh warm. It still didn’t feel real – he still didn’t feel real. Only hours ago was he a phantom that haunted your visions at night and a voice that resounded in your thin, boundary of a reality.

  
You place a hand on his heart and the heat of his skin is just a reminder of his authenticity. “I have something to admit.”

  
Kylo places his chin on the crown of your head, carefully brushing a hand through your hair. “What?” he whispers.

  
“When you were gone, I would try to contact you.”

  
He gathers your hair into a ponytail before settling it to the right side of your neck. “What do you mean?”

  
You smile a little; his caress is almost ticklish. “It’s embarrassing.”

  
He runs his nose along the bareness of your collarbone. “Tell me.”

  
You sigh. “Sometimes I would reach out a hand and concentrate very hard to find you. I thought that maybe you could feel me…sense me. I figured because of our bond you would be able to…” you shrug. “I don’t know, find me.”

  
Kylo looks guilty, his eyebrows threading closer together and eyes retreating downward between your bodies. “I cut myself off from you.”

  
You try to blink away the doubt. “What?”

  
He inhales very slowly, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his lips. “I needed you to believe that I was gone. I knew you’d come after me if you suspected I was alive.”

  
“You’re damn right I would have.”

  
Kylo tightens his grip on your hand. “I felt you…every time you tried. It was a slow tugging at my insides – like something was weaving within me. It was numb, but there. I wanted to show you…to reach out and touch you. But my anonymity was for your safety…for the children’s.” He exhales a deep breath.

  
“After Snoke, when the General and I tracked the Resistance to Crait, I needed the Resistance – what’s left of them – to believe I had fled after he fooled me.”

  
Kylo had already updated you on the Battle of Crait, supplying you with suspenseful details about how Luke’s image appeared before him, wielding the lightsaber that had been torn apart just hours before; how he had not noticed said everything.

  
“If they find out about you…” he winces, gripping your hand so tightly that, for a moment, you can feel the blood rush to the tips of your fingers. “If they find out about you, they’ll kill you.” He swallows. “Or worse – torture you for information. Sacrifice the children in order to break you.”

  
You understand what he means and you agree wholeheartedly. Nothing could endanger the lives of your children. How selfish had it been for you to be angry with him for leaving, even after the truth of it had been uncovered.

  
You burrow your head into his scarred shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  
Kylo doesn’t say anything to that. You can feel his heart beat slow against your cheek. The cot was quite small (made for only one person) so you were squished between the wall and his body. He wasn’t warm, but _hot_ to the touch. He’d always been that way – like the rage inside of him could not be contained within him and was threatening to infect him physically. The first time you touched him, you’d suspected he was with fever.

  
The stickiness from between your thighs had been cleaned by his cowl (you were absolutely mortified by the idea of your arousal drying upon it and – God forbid – someone noticing the smell) but you felt ghostly remains of him inside. You clenched your thighs together while recalling the way it had poured out of you like some kind of sacred bounty.

  
“Did you plan on getting me pregnant tonight?” you asked him with a smirk and, though he cannot see it, your tone implies a joke.

  
Kylo rubs your lower back with his palm. “Maybe.”

  
You giggle softly beneath him. “Do you really want another? We have three already.”

  
He’s quiet for a few moments, considering his next move very carefully as though a detonator might go off if he answered wrong. 

“Do _you_ want another?”

  
You roll your eyes. “I asked you first.”

  
He hugs you closer to his chest, your arms now tucked between the two of you. “There’s always room for one more.”

  
“I would have never suspected you of being so eager to have children.” You shake your head in disbelief. “You know that if I carry another, it’ll be my last.”

  
“Maybe we’ll have another set of triplets.”

  
You groan. “I would rather die.”

  
You can feel him smirk against your neck. He pulls your chin up to stare upon your small smile. While you can barely see his face, a slight, though dazzling ray of moonlight, shimmers against his eyes.

  
“Love of my life,” he whispers seriously. “Don’t joke.”

  
Your gaze softens at these words. “Oh, Kylo…” You run your fingers across the bridge of his nose, cradling the side of his face, and considering what you might say. Something stops you.

  
“I want to go home,” you say instead. “Take me back home.”

 

* * *

 

 

  
The next morning, you gather the Bruler Squad and the Knights into your hut.   
Each one of them are sitting upon the earth, cross legged, or lounging upon one elbow. You had no where else to go; privacy was a delicacy in Hannai, as all the rooms and buildings held bodies of curious and eager patrons who were desperate of any news regarding war. (Not to say you blamed them.)

  
Kylo stands cross-armed in the corner, the vein in his forehead protruding slightly from his hangover. The two of you had woken with a groan and a massive, throbbing headache. Getting dressed was a challenge, as the room hadn’t stopped spinning since you stood up from bed. Kylo had to attend you, providing a stable arm to assist with putting on your trousers one leg at a time.

  
You fold your hands at the center of your waist while standing before the group.

  
“Thank you for managing to get out of bed today. I understand that you earned this free day off, but we need to bring something to your attention.” You look towards Kylo who nods slowly. “The Supreme Leader and I will be returning to the Finalizer; we have a few matters to attend to. You, on the other hand, will be staying here.”

  
There’s a collective groan from the Knights as the Baleine Squad shrugs casually.

  
“I hate this place,” mutters Kea.

  
“We need you to keep an eye on the Resistance. If there’s any strange activity, we need to know…” You shift in your stance, bobbing a leg slightly to ward off any vomit from bubbling in your throat.

  
“That’s an order,” Kylo demands from the corner, mostly directed at Kea who continues to sulk.

  
Zi slowly raises a hand. “What about us?”

  
Kylo steps from out of the shadows. “You’ll await our orders and be contacted when needed.”

  
Zi and Felle nod in compliance. “Yes, Supreme Leader,” they say simultaneously. They exchange a look.

  
“Very good. You are dismissed,” you say with a flourish of a hand.

  
The two groups leave, bumping against one another and conversing upon themselves like schoolchildren. Sim shoves Kea out of the way, while Yuna and Lyre trail close behind, muttering to one another in hushed voices. Felle and Zi lead the way.

  
Once out of sight, you turn your head to look at Kylo who is biting the inside of his cheek.

  
“Are you worried? That they may fail to comply with Snoke dead?” you wonder.

  
Kylo shakes his head as though he’s trying to reassure himself. “No,” he says, but you sense an uneasiness in his voice. “No, they’re loyal to me. I brought us together.”

  
You hoped this was true.

  
“Yes…” you say, but skepticism laces your reply. “Yes, let’s hope.” 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Love ya. 
> 
> *Cingulomania: “A strong desire to hold a person in your arms.”


	11. Leia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS: Me sobbing.

When upon the ship, Kylo feels a tremor in the Force.

Something strong had roused his entity, shaking him to the core. He grips the levers of the command shuttle with trembling limbs, focusing on what was calling to him through the expanse of space. It was difficult to do; the impression was complex and almost impossible to calculate.

Kylo stares off into the breadth of space. Nearby planets loom in the distance, their moons orbiting around their great mass. Stars burn brightly before him, speckling the bleakness like diamonds in mines. Asteroids – space debris – threaten to crash into the ship once or twice, but it was nothing to be concerned about. He was a skilled pilot.

He’d learned from his father.

At least, when he was around.

His mother had wanted Kylo (Ben, he corrected with a sour taste in his mouth) to be a pilot, not unlike his dad. Young Solo displayed great ability at a young age. In the beginning, Han would take him to bare fields of space where no celestial bodies could discourage Ben, and near the end of his training, would lure him into asteroid fields. Once, he’d crashed into a piece of debris and it had damaged the _Falcon_ significantly. When Ben succeeded in an emergency landing, they ended up on a desolate planet that had no name or written history; he was probably eleven when it had happened.

“ _Great_ ,” Han said, slapping Ben on the back. “ _Good job, kid_.”

Ben had been scuttled, hair in disarray. “ _I’m sorry, dad. I didn’t see it coming and_ …”

Han lifted a hand to stop him. “ _I mean it, Ben. We survived. And it’s a good thing too; your mom would have killed us if we died._ ”

Ben let himself smirk, despite his trembling. “ _But the Falcon…she’s damaged_.”

Ben knew how much the ship meant to his father, but a part of him despised the _Falcon_ ; it had carried Han away for months at a time. Months that they could’ve used to fly and shoot bottles in Maz’s palace against Leia’s wishes (“ _He doesn’t need to be around those scoundrels_!”) Still, he couldn’t imagine the trouble he’d get into if anything happened to her, so the concern was more for _his_ benefit than his father’s.

“ _Kid, you’re more important_ ,” he said seriously. He patted the walls of the cockpit. “ _Her parts – they can be replaced. You can’_ t.”

Ben knew then that his father had truly loved him.

But it wasn’t the spirit of his father that had shaken Kylo. It was something else; something far more omnipotent. There was a peace to the presence, but an entanglement of…loss. A great loss. There was only once a when he had experienced such an instinct – such a sense of despondency.

It was when she had lost the child.

Kylo blinks once or twice in attempt to clear these confusing – even overwhelming – impressions. He flips the switch on the dashboard to autopilot and stands.

His wife hadn’t felt it. He could tell. She was sleeping soundly in the co-pilot’s chair, legs curled up against her chest. A panic arose in him when he considered that maybe it was her lifeline that was faltering. He placed a hand against her jugular and checked for a pulse and relief flooded through him when he felt the blood pump gradually underneath his touch. Kylo releases the breath he was holding and cradles her cheek.

 _Ben_.

He turns, tearing his hand from his wife’s face. She doesn’t stir.

 _Ben_ , it says again.

He isn’t sure why, but his first instinct is to search for a physical explanation. His eyes flicker around the ship, but he finds nothing. For a moment, he thought it might’ve been Rey, but then realized the tenderness in this voice was unlike the scavenger’s blunted accent. If it had been Rey, he would’ve seen her by now.

_You were my only hope._

The voice…it was…

Maternal.

The steel in Kylo’s eyes – as taciturn as they were – melts. His lashes flutter against his cheek, lips parting slightly only to choke out:

“Mother.”

There is a smile in the Force.

And then she is gone.

He feels her leave this plane of existence like a shot to the heart. His chest has been hollowed as though she had carved him a goodbye – a goodnight. He places a hand against his heart and feels it pace rapidly before gripping that very hand into a fist at his side.

He wants to say it, but he can’t. He can’t bring himself to…even now.

So instead, he cries.

 

* * *

 

  
Leia lay on her deathbed surrounded by no one.

She asked for privacy after saying her goodbyes. Poe has kissed her cheek with tears dripping down his face. _What am I going to do without you?_ he had asked with great sorrow. After much convincing, Poe finally left her side with head hung low.

It was in her last moments that she thought of him. Of her son. Of…

 _Ben_ , she gasped out. It took an energy from her she had so little of. _Ben_ , she said again when he did not answer.

Suddenly, he was a child. She watched him with tearful eyes as he grew up before her. There were smells she had forgotten about; like Han’s lingering cologne and sweet berries from the garden; Ben’s shampoo and his newborn skin.

She held him in his arms at three, twirling him around in the garden he so loved to play in. He giggled wildly and yelled, “ _Again, mama! Again!”_

Then he was fourteen. He had long hair now and it brushed against tawny, boyish shoulders. He was full of potential and great talent, and there was a power within him she could not withstand alone. She shipped him to his uncle’s and immediately regretted the decision when she watched his shuttle fly far away from her.

She should have called him more – should have visited him. She believed in him more than anyone.

With her last breath, Leia Organa whispered into the universe where she knew part of her was listening:

_You were my only hope._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for this.


End file.
